The light of morning crept gently through the curtains, casting gold across the chamber.
Daphne stirred first.
For a moment, disoriented, she blinked at the warmth pressing into her back, then remembered. He was here. Alaric. Finally home.
She turned slightly.
His arm was draped firmly over her waist, his face buried against her hair.
The weight of exhaustion sat plainly on him even in sleep, his features softened, younger, without the steel mask he wore before the world.
Her heart ached tenderly. He hasn't truly rested in months.
A knock sounded at the door.
She froze, then carefully slid from his hold, though it took effort...his grip was iron even in sleep.
Tugging her robe firmly about her shoulders, she moved to the door and opened it just enough.
Marcus stood there, eyes lowering respectfully. "Your Highness. Forgive the intrusion. It is time for the morning court. The Regent Majesty is needed."
